Friday, September 22, 2006
She used to steal my socks. When they come out of the dryer, I place them one on top of the other and roll them up from the toe until they're in a ball, and tuck the ball into the top of one of the socks. That way they don't ever get lost one from another. But for a cat, they're perfect--just the size of a kitten or other small animal that a cat might want to carry around. One day she made off with a pair and I found her on a rug downstairs lying on her side with the sock clutched against her tummy as if she was nursing a kitten.
She doesn't make off with socks any more but she does try to prevent me from putting on my pants. Very early in my relationship with Fritz, I was getting dressed at his place and sitting on the foot of his bed threading a belt into the loops of my trousers that were on my lap. I heard laughter, looked up and there was Fritz looking at me incredulously--"What ARE you doing?" I thought it was perfectly obvious and said so--nicely, you understand--we'd just slept together. "But you're doing it with your pants OFF!"
"As opposed to what?"
"With your pants ON, of course."
"Does it make a difference?"
Apparently it did, or does, and doing things the way I do was considered highly amusing. I explained that when I tried to thread the belt with the pants on I invariably missed a loop somewhere along the line and that this way I never missed. "You are a source of constant delight," he told me. You see why I fell totally in love with this man?
Anyway, back to my cat--you remember my cat? She loves it when I sit on the edge of the bed and start threading the loops with the belt du jour. She attacks the belt, hangs on with her teeth and gets dragged across the bed as I try to feed some more belt though one more loop. Then she'll run behind my back and pounce on my trousers from the other direction, getting the belt between a couple of loops, trying to pull it out. But she's about eight and a half pounds and I'm one hundred and . . . well, I'm bigger than she is and I get dressed and go to work every time.
I'm staying in town tonight for a performance of Monteverdi's "Orfeo," so I dressed up a bit this morning. Simple raw umber colored slacks with one of my great recent thrift shop finds, a regular shirt but one transformed by an Indian pattern in jewel tones of wine, orange, dark teal and gold. It's downright cold these nights in Boston so I decided to wear a vest, and picked leather in warm orange-gold with brass buttons.
She had such fun with the belt.
Actually I posted on her yesterday, check out my video post for yesterday as well:
I show the damage she has inflicted upon my furniture.
Given all that she's still very special.
Have a great weekend Will!
Yes, Hans, the book thing happens to me all the time. I like to read in bed for about half an hour before going to sleep. She always manages to get between me and the book and settle down to sleep with her back arched just enough so I can't see any part of the page.
We saw Orfeo with David Daniels last year in Chicago; stunning!
I have a friend who plays the piano for Mr. Daniels; I was promised some day I will meet this fine singer.
I've already got my ticket.
Monteverdi's Orfeo in Boston had tenor Tom Randle as Orfeo and I found his voice kind of gray with some pitch problems. He's a good performer and was moving at times but his voice is not really first class.